


All It Ever Was

by hatrickane (dandelionwhiskey)



Series: Sigma Chi [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Anal Sex, Arguing, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Gay Panic, Grinding, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 12:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionwhiskey/pseuds/hatrickane
Summary: Patrick hasn't talked to Jonny since they hooked up.





	All It Ever Was

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to [Let Me Do Something True](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10648959), a PWP that I couldn't let go of. I recommend reading it first, but it's not totally necessary. 
> 
> HUGE thanks to [allthebros](http://allthebros.tumblr.com) for amazing beta work!

Jonny runs into Patrick at the next party. And the next one. What he  _ doesn’t _ do, though, is talk to him. 

Every time he sees him, or hears his voice, he gets that tug in his stomach that makes him want to get closer. He remembers Patrick mouthing off all that dirty shit to him while they drunkenly humped each other in Jonny’s bed. It makes his ears hot.

But despite that, he can’t bring himself to go up to him. Sometimes he watches him from across the room, and occasionally they meet eyes, but it never goes further than that. Eventually, Jonny files the hook-up as just that - a one time fling. And, whatever. That’s fine.

Hockey starts up in October, and Jonny stops partying. He can’t help what the rest of the Sigma Chi house does, but luckily they’re not complete douchebags and he’s usually able to wake up early for practice. If he wants to make captain before he graduates, he’s got to take this seriously. 

His team doesn’t exactly make it easy, though.

Just as snow is starting to fall and finals are looming around the corner, Jonny’s pretty sure the team is doomed. They’re far behind, their best winger broke his leg, and their captain’s double-major is starting to distract him from the games. 

“Hockey is great, but it’s not what I’m doing after college,” Lapointe says with a shrug. Jonny just clenches his fists and lets the coach take care of admonishing him. 

Jonny’s studies slip as the games start to make him more miserable. It’s impossible to focus in class when all he can think about is getting back on the ice to train, to get better, to save the team from imminent failure. The last time a season had gone so poorly for him, he’d been in Peewee, and quit playing for a year just to escape the humiliation. It isn’t Jonny’s proudest moment. 

One night in late November, Seabs approaches him cautiously. He was the one who’d encouraged Jonny to join Sigma Chi and took Jonny under his wing, but he’s graduating soon and hasn’t been around as much as the beginning of the year. “Hey, uh. How’s it going, Tazer?”

“Huh?” Jonny looks up from his harrowing Trig textbook which has been overwhelming him for a good half-hour. He blinks blearily and sighs. “What is it, Seabs?”

Seabs shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Look, man, we’re worried about you. You haven’t had any fun in, like, two months. You have to take a break.”

Jonny resists the urge to glare at him. “I’m too busy to take a break right now.”

“That’s bullshit,” Seabs says. “I’ve been where you are, dude, and it’s not healthy. We’re throwing a party tonight, and you’re going to play some fucking beer pong. We even got the gluten free stuff for you.”

Jonny’s stomach clenches. There’s no way he can say no, now, without looking like a complete piece of shit. “Yeah, okay,” he says, “one night. But you guys are going to leave me alone tomorrow.”

Seabs nods firmly and reaches out to grip Jonny’s shoulder. “Trust me, man. This will be good for you.”

He doesn’t turn out to be totally wrong, but Jonny is still cursing his name by the end of the evening.

Everything starts out okay. He’s surrounded by his frat brothers, some of whom can commiserate with him about the struggling hockey team, and some who just want to get him wasted. 

“I’ve missed you, dude,” Saader says, jabbing him in the side with his elbow. “Good to see you in the land of the living.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonny says as he jostles him back. “Just had a lot on my mind lately.” 

“We can fix that,” Saader says, and passes him a shot of vodka. “Come on, the night is young.”

It doesn’t get too out of control, Jonny thinks through a haze, watching Sharpy and Hoss argue over who gets to control the music. Right now, some obscure eighties industrial track is playing and Sharpy is insisting that it’s killing the mood. He’s not wrong.

Just as Jonny is going to go over to intercede in the argument, Patrick comes around the corner and Sharpy immediately embraces him. Jonny can’t hear what they’re saying, but Patrick has a sweaty beer in his hand and Sharpy is already shoving more liquor his way. 

Jonny bites his lip. Sharpy is usually the one most likely to warn them about giving underage guys booze if they’re not in the frat, but he seems more than happy to egg Patrick on through a shot of whiskey. They’re acting like old friends and Jonny notices he’s been glaring for just a little too long when Sharpy catches his eye. 

He starts to make his way over to Jonny, yanking Patrick in tow, and Jonny wonders if he could just turn around and run without causing too much of a scene. Before his brain catches up with his legs, though, they’ve already arrived.

“Tazer!” Sharpy shouts over the now-appropriate pop music. “This is my buddy Patrick. He’s a first year, too - we have printmaking together on Tuesdays.”

Jonny makes a face. “Printmaking?”

“Easy art credit,” Sharpy explains. “You two should hang out. You have some things in common-” He goes on, but Jonny isn’t listening. Patrick is giving him big, unsure eyes, and Jonny isn’t equipped to process that. He looks skittish, like he wants to run as bad as Jonny does. 

“We’ve met,” Jonny says shortly. If his tone offends Patrick, it sure doesn’t show on his face. He keeps smiling, one eyebrow raised. Sharpy beams.

“Sweet,” he says, pushing a beer into Jonny’s hands. “Keep meeting, I’m going to go check on the boys. I think Shaw got his head stuck in the banister again.”

He exits, leaving Patrick and Jonny to stand there in silence. Jonny clenches his teeth. 

“You don’t have to stand around and pretend you want to talk to me,” he says. “But it’s kind of a dick move to keep showing up at our parties.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “It’s a free country.”

“I could tell campus security on you. You’re underage.” 

“So are you, genius.” 

Jonny throws his hands up. “You know what? Whatever, fuck you.” He puts his full beer down on the table and turns his back on Patrick, practically stomping toward the staircase. 

“Fuck you, too!” he hears snapped from behind him. By some miracle he manages to not turn around, stomping up the stairs and to his room. He slams his door shut behind him, sure to throw the lock, and pulls out the homework he’s already a week ahead on. 

“Fucking prick,” he mutters under his breath as he puts on his noise-cancelling headphones and starts to read. He thinks he hears some knocking on his door at one point, but he ignores it.

In the morning, he has the decency to be a little embarrassed. He knocks sheepishly on Seabs’ door and when he’s allowed to enter, hangs his head. 

“Hey, man, I’m sorry for leaving the party last night,” he says. “I just hit a wall, I guess.”

Seabs nods at him and pushes him gently in the chest. “I’m just glad I got you to hang in the first place. Not all bad, right?”

Jonny cracks a smile. “No, not all bad.” 

“Good. Now make me pancakes to make it up to me, I have a killer hangover.” 

Sharpy is in the kitchen nursing a cup of black coffee, eyes bloodshot, but hair still looking like he just walked off a magazine shoot. Jonny wants to fuck it up. Instead, he just walks past him to start prepping the breakfast.

“You and Kaner not cool or something?” Sharpy asks, his voice rough with sleep. Jonny wrinkles his brow. 

“Who’s Kaner?”

“Patrick,” Sharpy clarifies. “Sorry. Last name, Kane. I thought you guys knew each other.”

“Kind of,” Jonny mumbles. Flashes of Patrick’s teeth on his neck and his hands down Jonny’s pants make his cheeks go hot. “We met at orientation, then he came to one of our parties back in September. That’s kind of it, though.”

“Is that enough to make you yell at him in the middle of a party?” Sharpy asks skeptically. 

Jonny clenches his jaw and dumps some flour into a bowl. “He and I just don’t see eye-to-eye on things, okay?”

“Well, yeah, he’s too short for that.”

Jonny would have laughed, were the circumstances different. Instead, he just sighs and digs in the fridge for eggs. “I just don’t want him hanging around here, Sharpy. I think he’s bad news.”

Sharpy snorts. “‘Bad news,’ huh, dad?” Jonny flips him off over his shoulder, but he’s grateful Sharpy doesn’t ask for more information. Jonny doesn’t really want to explain himself any further, because he knows he doesn’t really have a good explanation. Not one he can talk about, anyway. 

Jonny dated in high school, sure. He was an athlete, tall, funny enough. Girls liked him. He stuck to long-term girlfriends, because he liked when it became easy and routine. It always seemed like when they got to that point, though, the girls dumped him. He could never quite figure out why - that was supposed to be the goal of relationships, as far as he knew. 

He doesn’t think anything could ever be easy with Patrick. 

///

Jonny heaves his hockey bag further up his shoulder as he walks into the University’s rink, when he hears a commotion coming from the ice. He curiously makes his way over. Some of the guys from the team and the coach are watching someone on the ice that Jonny doesn’t recognize.

He’s fast as hell, tricky, doing some drills that they do in practice. Jonny can’t tear his eyes away as he keeps walking closer. 

“He can definitely replace Oshie,” he hears someone mutter, and Jonny feels a flare of protectiveness. Sure, Osh had broken his leg, but they don’t have to be so quick to toss him aside. 

Even he has to admit, though, that this guy has some potential. “What’s going on, guys?”

“New guy trying out,” coach says. “Kane - Patrick. Freshman. Great hands, ya think?”

Jonny’s blood turns to ice as he drops his bag heavily on the bench. Suddenly every movement is so familiar. He can see the curl of blonde hair from under the helmet. He feels nauseous. “Yeah,” he mutters, “great hands.”

“He’s awesome,” Darling says from the other side of the bench.

“All right,” Coach says, “let’s get some guys out there to give him something to work with. Jonny, suit up fast - gotta see if he can wing you at center.” 

Patrick skates right by the bench, then, his mouth guard popped out of his mouth as he grins in Jonny’s direction. “We should see if he can take a hit, too,” Jonny says impulsively.

“We’ll wait on that,” Coach says. “Move your ass.”

///

Jonny spends the majority of practice trying to kick Patrick’s ass.

He’s not an aggressive player, normally; he prefers to stay out of the thick of things to make calculated moves from a distance. Patrick is fast, and involved, and doesn’t give anyone a chance against him. Jonny finds himself crowding Patrick, shoving him into the boards, tapping his ankles and hips with his stick just to rile him up.

Patrick gives it back just as good. He steals the puck from Jonny, refuses to let up on him even when he’s nowhere near the puck, and almost fucking trips him during a breakaway. 

“Ease up, you two!” Coach calls from the sideline, but Jonny’s not interested in listening. He won’t stop until that smile is wiped off Patrick’s face. 

“That’s it, 19!” Coach shouts again. “Take five and switch it up, you’re on Kane’s line now. I want to see some teamwork.”

_ Kane’s  _ line, Jonny fumes silently. He skates up to the bench, shouldering past Patrick to get his regular spot, and downs half a bottle of water. Patrick drops heavily next to him. 

“You’re good,” Patrick says, reaching for his own water bottle. Jonny doesn’t look at him. “You’ll be even better with me on the team.”

Jonny resists the urge to spray Patrick with what’s remaining of his water bottle. Instead, he just stashes it and shakes his head. “Let’s get this over with.”

Unfortunately, Patrick had been right.

Jonny isn’t one to let his team or his linemates down on purpose, so he plays as hard as he would with any other person on his line. Patrick always seems to find his tape, generously passing and positioning himself in a way that Jonny always knows where he is. Though infuriating, at first, Jonny has to admit that it feels fluid. Easy.

“I like what I’m seeing!” Jonny hears from the bench, and he wants to hate it. But if they can keep playing like this, they might have a chance to salvage the season. Coach calls out some drill instructions and they break out of practice play to focus on other things. Jonny’s eyes linger on Patrick’s skate style, how his eyes dart around and he’s always turning his head to hear. He’s hyper-aware, and it’s bringing up the memories of how attentive he was with Jonny in bed.

When practice is over, Jonny’s head is spinning. He undresses slowly in the locker room, half-heartedly listens to the chattering excitement from his teammates. Patrick had evidently ignited something in them. 

He heads to the showers, still in a haze of conflicting emotions, and turns the heat up as high as it will go. As the steam billows up around him, he takes a deep breath of the thick air. It soothes him, eases the ache out of his muscles.

“Hey,” he hears behind him, and suddenly he’s all tense again. He doesn’t turn around.

“What.” Jonny pumps some of the generic soap from the dispenser on the wall. 

He almost doesn’t hear Patrick’s sigh over the pounding of water, but he does catch it. It makes his stomach flip. “We play well.” 

“Yeah.” Jonny doesn’t want to offer any more than that. He can feel Patrick’s uneasiness and it does nothing but unsettle him more. 

“We can win,” Patrick says. At this point, Jonny does finally turn to look at him. He’s a few shower heads down, his normally curly hair pinned dark and wet to his head by the water. He looks older somehow. Jonny’s eyes don’t wander lower than his collarbone. 

“What?”

“We can win,” Patrick insists, watching Jonny soap himself up. “The whole season.” 

“We’re too far behind,” Jonny argues, even though he knows that’s not true. He can see Patrick’s eyes tracking the movement of his hands on his body and he 

Patrick shakes his head. “No, we’re not,” he says firmly. “I know you don’t like me, but this team needs the both of us.”

Jonny grits his teeth and turns his back to Patrick. “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

There’s silence from behind him, long enough that Jonny thinks maybe Patrick just left the showers with the water running. When he chances a look over his shoulder, though, Patrick’s watching him with a pinched expression. 

“I can’t believe I hooked up with you.” He looks angry, brows knit together, arms crossed in front of his wet chest. “Look, don’t let the team suffer. I know you’re not that much of an asshole.”

Jonny wants to hit him. It wouldn’t be hard, just sock him right in the chest and watch him slip on the tile. He clenches his fists instead. “The only reason I’m not kicking your ass is because of the team,” he says. Patrick shakes his head. “The minute you’re not good out there, you’re gone.”

“Whatever, man,” Patrick sighs. “If I’d known you were such a self-loathing douchebag I never would have hit on you.”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Jonny hisses, casting a look over his shoulder. If anyone on the team finds out about what happened between him and Patrick, it could undermine his run at the Captaincy. They might think he’s playing favorites, or would get in the way of him making rational choices. They might think he’s checking them out in the locker room. He can’t let that happen. 

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Your secret is safe with me. See you around.” 

Jonny stays alone in the showers until the water goes lukewarm and his fingers are numb from wrinkles. 

///

They start to win. Everyone’s putting up points, defense is reinvigorated, even the other teams are intimidated. Jonny can’t even be mad. When Patrick gets a hat trick in a particularly important game, he even joins the celly and rubs his helmet. Patrick beams.

Jonny still avoids sitting next to Patrick during team meetings and breakfasts, and will get on the bus for away games before everyone else so he doesn’t get stuck sitting next to him. The plan works okay, but the team spends so much time together that it’s inevitable that he’ll have to interact with Patrick sometimes. 

After the last game before holiday break, one where they’d been down by two in the third and managed to come back and win it right before the buzzer, Jonny gets on the bus last. The energy is high from the win and he’s standing outside the door, hugging and grabbing everyone as they pass by him to get on. There’s so much cheering and whooping that Jonny doesn’t even notice that by the time he gets on the bus, there’s only one seat left, and it’s next to Patrick.

The joy seeps out of him as he makes his way down the aisle, half-heartedly returning high-fives. Patrick is looking up at him, eyebrow raised, and even pats the empty seat next to him with a smug curl of his lips. 

“Don’t rub it in,” Jonny mumbles as he slides into the seat. 

“Come on, Toews,” Patrick says, jostling his shoulder. “We just won and you’re stuck with me for three hours. Lighten up.”

Jonny shakes his head and can’t help but smile. “We did win, didn’t we?”

“We’re setting records, baby,” Pat says, an easy grin on his lips, dimples out. “I told you this team was something special.” 

“Now that you’re on it,” Jonny admits. Patrick chuckles and looks out the bus window at all the streetlights whipping by. 

“Nah,” he says. “I helped, but you’re the leader, here.” He reaches over and puts one hand over Jonny’s, which he was wringing in his lap without even noticing. He stops fidgeting and slumps in his seat, letting Patrick keep his hands there. 

“I want it,” he says. Patrick blinks at him. “The C, I mean. After Lapointe graduates.” 

Patrick laughs. “Oh, I thought - nevermind. You’ll get it, man.”

Jonny bites his bottom lip, almost too tired to even try to argue. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know why you need me to convince you. You’re a strong player - you put up points, you’re reliable. And you’d do anything for the good of the team, even skate on a line with a guy you hate.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that Jonny’s guilt hits him like a ton of bricks. He’d been treating Patrick like dirt and all Pat had done in return was show up for this team and give a top-notch performance. 

“No,” Jonny says. “The way I’ve been acting toward you… that’s not what a captain does.” 

Patrick shrugs one shoulder. “There’s probably a learning curve.”

He drags his thumb over Jonny’s knuckles, and Jonny yanks his hand away. Patrick is doing his best not to look like it bothers him, but Jonny notices the extra roundness of his eyes giving away his frustration. 

“Don’t.” 

“Sorry, okay,” Patrick assures him. He crosses his arms and looks back out the window. “I get it.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Jonny says, finally. “I hate what you did to me.”

Patrick’s eyes narrow, his features hardening defensively. “Fuck, man,” he says with exasperation, and Jonny knows he’s been kind of a dick for the last few weeks, so he lets it go. After a minute of riding in silence, Jonny rubs one eye with the heel of his hand. 

“Look, we’re having a party,” he says, “at Sigma Chi. Ugly Christmas sweater thing.”

“Sharpy’s idea, I’m guessing,” Patrick says. “So, what? You’re lifting my ban?”

Jonny sighs. “Sharpy likes you, and misses you. He won’t stop bugging me about it.”

“The only reason you’re telling me that is so I can torture him about it.”

Jonny actually laughs. “Yeah, maybe. If you do decide to come, I’ll leave you alone.”

Patrick nods once. “Me, too,” he says to the window, his breath fogging up the glass. 

///

The party is in full swing by midnight, and there’s no sign of Patrick. Not that Jonny’s looking for him, exactly, but he can’t help but be curious. Shaw is dominating at beer pong, which means he’s sober, which means he actually thinks he’s losing. 

Jonny’s nursing a beer, feeling warm in the cheeks but not drunk. He  shed his ‘ugly’ sweater a few hours ago, after the novelty wore off. Sharpy is still proudly rocking his, a bright red and green striped sweater with a gold bow across the front like a present. 

“Want to open me up, Tazer?” He asks, shimmying towards Jonny. 

“Get away from me,” Jonny demands as he shoves Sharpy back. He only stumbles a little, the grin on his face never faltering. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t want some of this,” he says, and sips some more of whatever he’s drinking out of the solo cup he’s swinging around. “Hey, I heard you invited Kaner. You guys kiss and make up?”

Jonny glowers. “I did it for you, asshole. I know you miss him.” 

“Yeah,” Sharpy says with this obnoxiously knowing look on his face. “Sure did. Totally missed the way he never shuts up about you.”

Jonny stops staring into his lukewarm beer to stare at Sharpy. “What?”

Sharpy drapes his arm across Jonny’s shoulders, clicking his tongue a couple of times. “Jonnyboy, the guy wants to be buds, okay? He’s one of the good ones, give him a chance.”

Jonny scowls. Patrick was the one who’d ghosted him after they hooked up, he doesn’t owe the kid anything. “Sure, whatever,” he says. “I’m going to get another beer.”

He walks toward the kitchen, his half-empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers, when he spots Patrick. He’s kneeling on their shitty couch, tipping a bottle of vodka into Hartzy’s mouth, his cheeks pink. He’s laughing, and when Hartzy sputters some of the vodka out, Patrick thumbs across his lip to clean it up. 

Jonny can’t fucking believe him. He drops the bottle, which, of course, shatters when it hits the hardwood floor. Patrick starts and spots Jonny, immediately springing up from the couch to come toward him. 

“Whoa, Jonny. Are you okay, man?”

“Fuck you,” Jonny snaps. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Patrick narrows his eyes and throws his hands in the air. “What? What did I do now?”

“Are you kidding?” Jonny says, taking a step into Patrick’s space and bumping their chests together. “That little show with Hartman?”

“I know you aren’t  _ jealous _ ,” Patrick spits back. Jonny can feel angry heat climbing up his face that will only culminate in something bad if he doesn’t remove himself from this situation right the fuck now. He turns to go, but Patrick grabs his arm. “Come on, Jonny. You’ve been wanting to hit me for months, just get it over with.”

“I’m not going to hit you,” Jonny replies as evenly as possible. People are starting to pay attention to them and Jonny can’t have that, can’t let people see him like this. “Not this time.” 

“Man, I can’t wait until you get over yourself,” Patrick says, his voice filled with disappointment. “You could actually be a good guy in there, somewhere.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” 

Jonny barely has time to move before Patrick dumps his drink over Jonny’s head. 

“What the  _ fuck, _ ” Jonny shouts. He coils his arm back, fist clenched, ready to drive it right into Patrick’s stupid face.

“Yeah, go on, hit me,” Patrick says. “You’ve wanted to for months, right? Will it make you feel better?”

Jonny drops his hand and spins around to retreat to the staircase. He can feel the eyes on him, shrugs off Sharpy’s concerned hand as he passes him, and takes the stairs two at a time to get up to his room as quickly as possible.

He kicks the door shut behind him and fumes, pacing, trying to get his heart rate down. He thinks about what Patrick would have done if Jonny hadn’t interrupted, if he would have leaned in and tasted the vodka right off Hartzy’s lips. Jonny can’t shake the image from his head.

His door swings open and Patrick barrels in before Jonny can stop him. He slams the door shut, locks it, and crosses his arms. “Stop it.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“Calm down, asshole,” Patrick says. Jonny realizes his breaths are coming more raggedly, his eyes unfocused. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, waiting for his heart rate to even out. “Why are you like this? What’s wrong with you?” 

“You dumped your fucking beer on me!” Jonny says. He whips off his wet shirt and grabs a t-shirt from the floor. 

“You deserved it,” Patrick snaps.

“You knew I’d be here,” Jonny says. “You knew, and still you don’t - you flirt-”

Patrick’s brow knits. “You’re  _ jealous _ ?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jonny spits. He runs a hasty hand through his hair. “But it doesn’t exactly feel good watching you… with other guys.” 

“But you’re not gay.”

Jonny can feel his heart beating between his temples and it’s making it hard to think. “What gave you that impression?”

Patrick narrows his eyes. “You didn’t follow up with me after we hooked up,” he says. “You didn’t want to tell Sharpy how we knew each other. You didn’t want the team to know. And you’re so fucking angry. I figured, I don’t know, you were ashamed.”

Jonny can barely process anything Patrick is saying to him. He goes over the last few interactions they had, repeating them in his head, and tries to see them from Patrick’s point of view. “Oh.”

Patrick doesn’t say anything, just lets Jonny stand there and try to work everything out in his head. He’s shifting from foot to foot, arms crossed defensively, like he’s ready to bolt at any second. Jonny sighs. 

“I don’t know what I am,” Jonny begins, “but I was into you. And then you disappeared, and it was so easy for you to act like nothing happened. It pissed me off.” 

“I’d never do that,” Patrick says. 

Jonny frowns at him. “Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?” 

Patrick glares at him for a moment. “You could have  _ not _ treated me like the scum of the earth.” 

“You ghosted on me. What was I supposed to think?” 

“I just thought you’d want to like, process. Hooking up with a dude for the first time isn’t something every guy is prepared for.” Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets. “I should have talked to you.”

“Yeah,” Jonny agrees firmly.

“I’m sorry for not following up with you,” Patrick says. “I’m a moron.” 

“Yeah,” Jonny says, then moves his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit.” 

There’s a beat of silence where neither of them look at each other and Jonny doesn’t know if he wants to take a step forward or a step back. In the end, he just stays where he is. 

“Jonny,” Patrick says. “We don’t have to be all pent up and stupid about this.”

Jonny laughs, a real one, probably the first real one in awhile. “What do you think we should do?”

“You could let me kiss you,” Patrick offers. Jonny’s jaw drops slightly in surprise. Out of all the ways he’d expected this confrontation to end, this was not one of them. He bites his lip. 

“I’m still mad,” he says with much less malice than he’d intended. Patrick doesn’t seem to believe him, because his lips quirk and he takes a half-step closer to Jonny. Patrick doesn’t move closer and Jonny stays put. He realizes he was never really mad; the pounding of his heart and the way he wants to clench his fists, it’s because he’s scared. Not one to admit that aloud, though, Jonny raises his chin and looks Patrick right in the eye.

“Wait,” he says. Patrick’s smile drops and he nods. 

“All right,” He moves to take a step back, but Jonny moves forward so they can stay close.

“One kiss,” Jonny says, watching the smile creep back onto Patrick’s lips. “Everything else happens after we win.” 

Patrick blinks. “You’re betting sex on the outcome of our tournament?”

“Fucking right,” Jonny says. Patrick laughs and reaches up to clap his hand down on the back of Jonny’s neck. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he says. He leans in and rests his mouth over Jonny’s, all chaste and sweet, and Jonny feels like he’s found water in a desert. He remembers how Patrick’s hands felt all over him, the way his leg pressed up against Jonny’s dick, how clouded his eyes got when he was about to come - and before he knows it, Jonny’s got Patrick against the wall.

Patrick opens his lips and lets Jonny slide his tongue inside while his hands grip Jonny’s arms. Jonny doesn’t want to stop; Patrick tastes like vodka and spearmint and he can’t get enough. Just as one hand goes up to grip the curls peeking out from Patrick’s baseball cap, Patrick pulls away, panting.

“You do that and we’re not stopping at one kiss.”

“Let’s not stop, then,” he says. He curls his hand around Patrick’s hip. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Patrick says, slipping out from Jonny’s grasp to go toward the door. “A good captain sticks to his word.” 

“I’m back to hating you,” Jonny chirps as he straightens up to smooth out his clothing. 

“I’m going back home to Buffalo for winter break,” Patrick says as he unlocks Jonny’s door. “I won’t be around for a few weeks, but, uh.”

“We’ll talk,” Jonny promises. 

They go back down the stairs to the party, together, where Sharpy is waiting and giving them a suspicious look. 

“You kids work it out? Finally seeing eye-to-eye?”

“Nah,” Jonny says, “he’s too short for that.”

Patrick elbows him.

///

Patrick and Jonny talk over winter break, and don’t stop once they get back to school. They start studying together, working out together, even hitting campus lunch together on some days. Each time, it gets harder for Jonny to keep his word. Sometimes Patrick runs his fingers down Jonny’s forearm and sometimes Jonny just can’t help but stare at Patrick, watching the bob of his adam’s apple or a drop of sweat roll down his neck.

It’ll be worth it, he reminds himself, when they win. 

They slip up a few games in a row and Patrick tries to soothe Jonny with amateur massages and a ficus. Sharpy even clears out a space for it by the back window so it can get plenty of light. It cheers him up for a couple of days, but when Jonny hits a four game point drought, he refuses to go anywhere but the ice and the gym. 

“Gotta get better,” he’d say, and Patrick would refill his water bottle for him. 

“You’re doing fine. We just have to keep pushing.” 

Jonny tries to pour over his textbooks while Pat fucks around on Spotify on his computer, but he can’t focus. 

“If we don’t win the next game, we’re out,” Jonny says, rolling over onto his stomach and hiding his head in his arms. “You know that.” 

Patrick nods solemnly.

“We can’t be out,” Jonny continues. “We did so well, we came  _ back _ , we can’t let it go now. I need this.”

Patrick gets out of Jonny’s desk chair and sits down on the bed next to him, running his fingers up his back and into his hair. “You’re doing fine,” he says again. The waver in his voice betrays his frustration. 

“I promise I’ll still kiss you again even if we don’t win,” he says, pressing his thumb against the back of Jonny’s skull.

“That’s not the deal,” Jonny mumbles into his arm, and Patrick makes a disapproving noise. 

“Better get to the gym, then,” he says, smacking Jonny’s ass and standing up to grab his backpack. “We’ll kick it in the ass, Jonny.” 

“Mhm,” he lies. “Just - I gotta score. Okay?”

“I’ll set you up,” Patrick promises. 

///

Jonny scores four points in the next game. 

They still lose. 

The other team piles on top of each other on the other side of the arena and Jonny ignores it, focusing solely on helping Lapointe give everyone the hugs and head pats that they need. He can feel his heart resting firmly at the base of his stomach, giving him no reprieve from the failure he can’t avoid. 

Patrick finds him after the handshake line, after Lapointe’s weird goodbye-pep talk in the locker room, when everyone is sullen and quiet. He sits down next to Jonny and leans their shoulders together.

“You were amazing tonight,” he says softly. “Nothing more you could have done.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Patrick,” he says. “I already know everything you’re going to say.” 

“Okay. Want to go back to my place and make out?”

Jonny stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder. “That wasn’t the deal.” He turns around and takes off to wallow alone in his room. 

///

Sigma Chi hosts a goodbye party for Lapointe a few days later. Jonny had reached out to Patrick a couple of times, mostly to tell him that he’s okay, but he needs to be alone. They haven’t seen each other since Jonny ditched him in the locker room. 

Lapointe is drunk and happy; he’s graduating in a few months and even though they didn’t win this year, they had a good run. That’s what he keeps saying. Jonny wishes he believed him. The rest of the team seems in good spirits, though, and Jonny can’t help but sponge some of those good vibes off of them. An hour in, and he’s already feeling better.

Patrick shows up with his backpack, and Jonny’s already hugging him before he can sling it off. “Glad you made it,” he says, “sorry about… y’know.”

“You’re extra weird about winning dude,” Patrick says, but it almost sounds like a compliment. “It’s cool. Let’s party.” 

The music gets louder and the alcohol starts flowing - this time, Jonny indulges. This time, he pours vodka into Kaner’s mouth and barely resists the urge to kiss the extra drops off his chin, instead using his fingers to wipe it away. 

“Your beard is getting long,” he says, brushing through it again with his fingertips. 

“You like it?” Patrick asks, eyebrow raised. Jonny considers it for a moment. 

“Better than mine,” he admits and Patrick’s laugh sounds like music when it’s so close to him like that. He knows they’re being weird, probably touching too much and maybe dancing too close, but he can’t bring himself to care anymore. The season is over and this is what he has, now. 

“Team meeting!” Lapointe bellows, abruptly turning off the music. Jonny furrows his brow and watches the rest of the guys gather, looking expectantly up at their captain. 

“As you know, I’m graduating in a few months,” he begins, and someone throws a couch pillow at him. “Okay, okay, I may have mentioned it once or twice. But that means that the time has come to choose a new captain.” 

Jonny swallows, eyes darting around the room. 

“Normally, I’d make you guys drink for it,” he says, “but I think we’ll just play by the rules, eh? Well, sort of.” 

“What do you mean, ‘sort of?’” Jonny asks. 

“I may have already taken a vote,” he goes on, “because I had a feeling.” 

Jonny blinks. He never casted a vote. 

“With a unanimous vote, please welcome the new Captain of your team, Jonny Toews!” 

The room erupts in cheers as Jonny stares wide-eyed at everyone, frozen on the spot. Everyone is clapping, grinning at him, and he blinks back at them and turns to Patrick. “What?”

“It’s you, dumbass,” Patrick says. “We all voted. Except you, I guess.”

“What do you say, Jonny?” Lapointe asks, holding out his hand. “Adding your vote to the bunch?”

“Yeah, I mean, yes, of course, thank you,” he says, allowing himself to get hauled up onto the table Lapointe is standing on. Everyone starts clapping again and Jonny is still not a hundred percent sure what’s going on. “But we lost,” he says, and everyone actually laughs at him.

“You’re an asset to the team, and an awesome leader,” Lapointe says. “I’m sure I’m leaving you guys in good hands with this one.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jonny promises. Everyone laughs at him again. This might be harder than he thinks. Patrick is clapping for him, though, grinning ear-to-ear, and Jonny makes a quick decision. He hops off of the table and accepts a few handshakes and high-fives on his way to Patrick.

“Congrats,” he says once Jonny reaches him.

“Upstairs, now,” Jonny says. He walks right past him to the staircase. He can feel Patrick behind him as the music starts back up again and the party returns to full swing. Once they get to Jonny’s bedroom, the door isn’t even shut before Jonny’s kissing him. 

Patrick kisses back and does manage to close the door and get his hands up the back of Jonny’s shirt. They’re pressed together as much as they can be, but it’s still not enough. Jonny starts to pull Patrick toward the bed when Patrick turns his head to the side to catch his breath.

“I thought this wasn’t the deal,” he says, and Jonny pulls his shirt up and over his head. 

“Screw the deal. Don’t you want to get fucked by your captain?”

“Jesus,” Patrick says, “yeah, I want that.” 

They get down to their underwear before Jonny can’t take it anymore and gets Patrick to the bed, fitting himself between Patrick’s legs and kissing him deeply. Pat wraps his arms around Jonny’s neck and brings his knees up so they can get a good rhythm going, just rubbing up against each other while they make out.

Patrick’s mouth is soft and pliant, always against Jonny’s lips or neck. He finds a particularly sensitive spot and sucks, and Jonny’s hips buck up against him. 

“I remember this,” Patrick mumbles, sliding his hands down Jonny’s back to tuck under the waistband of his underwear. “Getting off with you like this. Never stopped thinking about it.”

Jonny makes a noise in the back of his throat and hooks his arms under Patrick’s knees. He pushes until his ass is in the air and Jonny’s clothed cock is resting right along the crease of it. Patrick’s breath hitches hard as his legs spread wider. The air in the room is heavy, heady, and Jonny rolls his hips in small circles to grind his dick right up where he wants to be. 

“I can feel you,” Jonny murmurs. He tucks his fingers between his dick and Patrick’s underwear, pressing two of them up against Patrick’s hole and rubbing. “Right there.” 

Patrick grunts and wriggles against Jonny’s touch. “Underwear has got to go,” he says firmly.

Jonny takes his time slicking Patrick up. He’s never done it before, of course, it works in his favor because Patrick seems to love it. He’s wearing a dopey smile while Jonny stretches him out, and each inhale sounds like a tiny gasp. 

“One more?” Jonny asks, stroking the stretched skin with his index finger. Patrick nods and pulls his knee up to his chest to give Jonny more room. “Remind me again why we didn’t do this before?”

“Your stupid bet,” Patrick says, voice breathy.

“Yeah, it’s all my fault,” Jonny agrees with a smile, leaning in to suck on Patrick’s bottom lip while he pushes a third finger inside. Patrick hums out a long noise that stutters when Jonny starts to fuck in and out. “Feel okay?”

“Feels great,” Patrick says. “You’re a natural.”

That turns Jonny on more than it probably should. He feels his dick throb with how badly he wants to fuck Patrick. He wants it so badly, he feels like he could come from the disappointed whine Patrick gives when he pulls his fingers out.

“Roll over,” he says. He gently pushes at Patrick’s shoulder until he turns over to lay on his stomach. As Jonny rolls the condom on, Patrick shifts restlessly, raising and wiggling his ass in the air. “Knock it off,” Jonny says. He smooths his hand down Patrick’s crack and thumbs at his hole. 

Patrick huffs something that sounds like an insult and Jonny laughs, knee-walking until he’s lined up behind Patrick. He rubs the head of his dick there for a minute, reveling in the heat and wetness, before pushing in. 

Jonny watches Patrick’s fingers fist into the sheets and almost wishes he could do the same, but he settles for gripping Patrick’s hips and listening for any noises of distress. If anything, though, Patrick only urges him on. 

Patrick is so tight. 

He welcomes Jonny in with enthusiasm and chews on his lips as Jonny thrusts in and out slowly. But then Jonny starts to speed up, trying to match the way his heart is pounding.

“That’s it, harder, come on.”  

Jonny doesn’t need to be told twice. He lays over Patrick’s back, hooking an arm around his collarbone, and starts to push in earnest. Patrick tilts his head to give Jonny a sloppy kiss and the way they connect in that moment is almost too much for Jonny to handle. 

He feels like he’s charged with static, taut with all the pent up desire he’s been ignoring for the past few months. Patrick feeds off of every bit of that energy and gives it back to him, moaning softly and squeezing and reaching back to grip Jonny’s ass. 

Jonny thumbs across one of Patrick’s nipples and drags his hand down to cup his cock. It’s heavy between Patrick’s legs, wet, hot, and Jonny drags his fingers across it. Patrick’s fingers dig into Jonny’s skin and he looks over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice is gravelly-low, “come on. Touch me.” 

Jonny is unable to focus enough to keep his strokes even. Patrick doesn’t seem to mind, though, just thrusts forward into Jonny’s hand and back onto his dick. Jonny stills his hips and lets Patrick take control for a minute, fucking himself on Jonny’s cock with abandon and making sharp, short sounds into the pillow. 

“God.” Jonny pulls out of Patrick’s body and rolls him over onto his back. “Can we do it like this? I-”

“Yeah, yeah, Jonny,” Patrick is already saying. His legs wrap around Jonny’s hips. “Just don’t stop.” 

He has no intention of stopping. It’s easier to press in this time, and nearly better; he can see everything flickering across Patrick’s face and every swipe of his tongue across his lower lip. It’s also easier to kiss him like this. All he has to do is lean down over him and he can suck Patrick’s tongue into his mouth as he fucks him.

He can feel the slickness of Patrick’s precome against both their stomachs and it’s unbearably hot to know that Jonny is the one making that happen.

“I promised I’d this to you, remember?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, reaching up to press his thumb into Jonny’s bottom lip.

Jonny gives a couple particularly deep thrusts, just to watch Patrick throw his head back and gasp. He leans in and kisses Patrick’s throat, moving up to nose at his ear. “You talked more last time,” he murmurs. Patrick shivers underneath him, so Jonny scrapes his teeth against Patrick’s earlobe.

“Can’t think,” Patrick says. “You talk.” 

“Just tell me what feels good,” Jonny whispers. He slows down, squeezing his eyes shut at the drag of Patrick’s body clinging to him. 

“You,” Patrick says. Jonny takes Patrick’s wrists and pins them above his head with one hand. He can’t actually hold him, but Patrick goes with it anyway. “That’s it, Captain.” 

The full-body shiver that wracks Jonny is unexpected. Patrick grins and leans up to kiss Jonny’s chest. He tightens his legs around Jonny’s waist and raises his eyebrows in challenge, waiting for Jonny to get the hint. 

“Fuck,” Jonny chokes out, and starts to fuck Patrick fast and hard. Pat’s eyes go half-lidded and he can’t seem to hold back his groans of pleasure anymore, rolling his hips back to meet as many of Jonny’s thrusts as he can. 

With his free hand, Jonny touches Patrick’s ribs and slips his fingers down to squeeze his ass before fitting it between his stomach and Patrick’s dick. He rubs at the damp head of it and holds it loosely, allowing Patrick to arch up into his grip. 

“M’gonna,” is all Patrick manages to get out before he’s coming, Jonny’s name a choked whisper on his lips. It’s sticky between them but Jonny doesn’t stop; he can feel the crest of his orgasm just on the horizon. Patrick pants, trying to stay in it, but Jonny can tell he’s about to go boneless. Jonny groans and tucks his face into Patrick’s neck, pulling out of his warm body and yanking the condom off. 

He jerks off fast, kissing Patrick through it, rubbing his lips on Patrick’s prickly beard. Patrick kisses him back, sloppy, with vague compliments to Jonny between each peck. 

“Come on,” he says, “come on me, Cap.” 

Jonny grunts and fastens his lips to Patrick’s throat as he comes all over the both of them. His hips jerk through it and Patrick strokes his them, chest, runs his fingers through his hair until the aftershocks pass.

“Fuck,” Jonny says, rolling off of Patrick and onto his back. “Jesus.” 

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Patrick says. “You got a towel, or something? Man, you had a full tank.”

Jonny makes a face and leans wearily over the side of the bed to get a towel from his hamper. He throws it at Patrick’s face and laughs when he swears loudly. “I got you,” Jonny says, taking the towel and gently mopping up the mess he left. 

“I’m going to need to shower.” Patrick props himself up on an elbow. “Or everyone at the party will know.” 

“Don’t care if they know.” 

Patrick’s lips quirk into a smile. “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that little kink of yours.” 

“Shut up,” Jonny grunts. 

“Make me.”

Jonny kisses him instead. 

///

“Gonna rush Sigma Chi next year?” 

The sun beats down on the quad as he and Patrick lie in the grass, watching some hippies play frisbee. Summer vacation is just a few days away and Jonny is dreading it for the first time in his life. Patrick is going back to Buffalo.

“Nah,” Patrick says, plucking some green grass from the ground. “Need a place to get away when the house gets too rowdy, y’know?” 

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Don’t I know it. Between you and the parties, I don’t know how I got any studying done this semester.” 

Patrick throws a ball of grass at Jonny’s face. “Fuck you, I’m a good influence.” 

Jonny sputters and spits out some of the grass, grabbing a handful and shoving it against Patrick’s cheek. They wrestle like that for a minute until Patrick somehow gets the upper hand and rolls Jonny onto his back and straddles him. 

“Yeah, sure you are,” Jonny says. “Get off me.”

“Move in with me,” Patrick says. “Next semester. Let’s get an apartment near campus.”

Jonny blinks at him. “Are you insane?”

“No,” Pat says, crawling off of Jonny and letting him sit up. “Come on. We can study, play hockey… and you can stay part of Sigma Chi. I checked.” 

Jonny purses his lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Take the summer. “If you’re not epically missing me by July, I’ll quit hockey.”

“Don’t say that,” Jonny says sharply. Patrick grins and musses up Jonny’s hair. 

“Stop worrying. I won’t abandon you, Cap.”

Jonny sighs and tries in vain to fix his hair. “I’ll think about it. But you’ll have to convince Sharpy.”

Patrick waves his hand in the air dismissively. “Please, I have him wrapped around my little finger.” 

He’s right, of course. Not just about Sharpy, but about how badly Jonny is going to miss him over the summer. He almost says as much, but the frisbee lands near them and there’s a mad scramble to get to it first. Patrick wins and whips it back to the hippies, who shout an invitation to their game.

Jonny stands on the edge of the circle and catches the throws Patrick sends his way.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on [tumblr](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10648959)! :)


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